Mac told me to writ him down the answer to the "big question." He was sitting there, trying (pretending) to take this test, and I'm bugging him; he goes "liza, shut up and figure out what the meaning of life is." I look at him. He looks back, waves his hand at me, eyebrows raised saying, "Go one, do it, you know you want to." and because I like to think about that kind of stuff, I did it. Not that I have the slightest inkling as to what the meaning of life is, far from. Instead I gave him a page on what I think it is to live, claiming that to live was the meaning of life. I also kind of have this theory that philosphers and the like never get to live, because they are always trying to figure out life; they're so damn busy creating their theories and such, that they never have a chance to watch life flow by as it should, but that's just a bit of fluff from the inside of my head. No reason for it to make sense.